


Map

by obihoekenobi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: M/M, but what else is new, just migs mayfeld having some feelings, no beta we die like men, some light whumpage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28657593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obihoekenobi/pseuds/obihoekenobi
Summary: Migs Mayfeld has made a living out of being alone. He thinks it suits him just fine. Then Din Djarin comes along and reminds him what it is to want something more for himself.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Migs Mayfeld
Comments: 27
Kudos: 170





	Map

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I'd like to blame the good people on AO3 for making me ship this. 
> 
> I love these two, old space men.

After Morak, Migs Mayfeld somehow found himself on a forgettable planet on the edge of Hutt space. 

The sun never seemed to rise and there was a smell that lingered in the air that he didn't want to try identify. It had all the signs of what once might have been a bustling town, but years of neglect had left it's mark. The once vibrant streets were lined with dirt and there were more boarded up doors than open ones. 

It was a complete shit hole. The perfect place to be forgotten about. 

It had been his home for the last few weeks, after he managed to hitch a ride off Morak. He had lucked his way across a contingent of pirates making their way off the planet. He could tell that they were licking their wounds after what happened and managed to weasel his way aboard.

He felt almost guilty as he remembered how Mando had wiped out most of their men. But then he reminded himself they were pirates. And that he hadn't survived so long in the Galaxy by letting a little thing like guilt dissuade him from looking after himself first.

Suffice to say, the trip there had been a journey, and they separated on not the best of terms once Migs saw how they conducted their business. It was dangerous, being alone and unaffiliated on a planet like that but Migs had always gotten past by himself. It usually led to less life threatening situations. 

Still, a man needed to eat and unfortunately that meant playing nice with locals. There was only so long he could get by on odd jobs in the end. Putting on his most confident veneer, Migs swaggered his way down to the local fighting ring.

The old lady who was letting him stay on her couch had tipped him off to it. She had taken one look at him, when he asked for directions in the marketplace and dragged him back to her home. Her grip had been surprisingly strong for one so frail and she had rebuked every offer to carry her shopping basket. 

She lived in a tiny apartment at the centre of town but that night she had pulled out all the stops. It was first home cooked meal Migs had eaten in years. Afterwards, he didn't sleep a single wink, too busy ruminating over the fact he felt like a fraud. There was this lovely old lady, who was so happy to have company, but if she knew anything about him she never would have opened her front door. He resolved himself to make as much money as possible, to get himself sorted, and to leave the rest for her once he could finally go.

The fighting ring wasn't far from his temporary home. The people got exceedingly seedier, the closer he got. Migs let himself slide through the crowd, making sure not to catch anyone's attention before he was safely inside. 

It was jarringly loud inside, and any conversation would be veiled from rest of the room. The perfect place to conduct criminal activity. 

Migs decided the bar was his safest bet, as he slid onto one of the worn stools. The counter was unpleasantly sticky but at least it wasn't as crowded as the rest of the place. Also, the strong smell of alcohol managed to mask the smell that lingered in the rest of the town. It was the little things, he supposed.

It would take a few days, and a few repeated appearances, before anyone approached him with work. He resigned himself to the fact, as he ordered himself a drink.

There was no act as he took the first sip, a relieved sigh escaped his lips. For a second he allowed himself to imagine a life like this, one where he would make an honest living and have one beer before he went home to his family. It was a nice dream but the beer was nicer. 

He purposely didn't turn around, when he felt a presence at his side.

"I'll have whatever he's having".

Only years of experience, stopped Migs from whipping around in shock. It didn't stop him from tensing up completely, fist clenching around his drink. 

"Mando", he said, forcing himself to relax as he turned to look at the other.

He looked exactly the same as the first time Migs saw him, all silent indifference and sharp lines. The kind of guy who demanded everyone's attention, even when he wasn't looking for it. 

And right now, he was cramping Mig's style. 

"I'm trying to get some work here, so unless you're offering..", Migs said, as he tried to turn away in dismissal. 

It didn't work, not that he expected it to. Instead of grabbing a stool, like a normal person, Mando settled beside him at the counter. Migs was hyperaware of every inch of him, and had to stop himself for flinching everytime they brushed against each other. 

"I have work", Mando continued, making no move for the drink the bartender set infront of him. Migs eyed it apprehensively, as he drained the last of his own drink. He tested a theory, as he reached for the neglected beer. 

Mando made no move to stop him, so Migs settled on mulling over his words.

"I'm not sure I like your kinda work, pal".

"It pays well".

And wasn't that something. Migs turned to survey him again, this time not bothering to hide his intent as he looked him over. He looked just the same as before but Migs could see something had changed. 

"Where's the kid?", he asked, as casually as he could. It didn't take a genius to feel the shift in the air. This time it was Mando's turn to flinch. 

"With his own kind".

He couldn't parse much through the modulated voice. A traitorous part of his mind imagined the expression that might be there, those big brown eyes marred with sadness. 

"So what's the job?".

* * *

It turned out to be a local sting. An outpost nearby had been causing trouble for the town. Some pirates who fashioned themselves the next big thing. Disposing of them would be no real trial, from what Migs could see they looked sloppy. 

They took shelter on the lip of nearby cliff and took turns taking stock, the binoculars passing easily between the two. They couldn't light a fire and had to settle for huddling close to each other, as they waited for the moon to reach it's peek. Mando didn't seem perturbed by the cold, but Migs couldn't deny it was uncomfortable. He always avoided the cold, no matter where he ended up. It was one of the reasons he wanted off this goddamn rock. 

To distract himself, he turned to his only companion.

"So tell me this, Mando-".

"Din".

"Excuse me?", Migs replied, surprised at the unexpected response. He thought it would require more ribbing, to get a reply, especially one so vitriol. 

"That's my name", he replied, as his voice shifted into something tired and quiet. The anger disappeared as quickly as it appeared. It reminded Migs just how dangerous the other was. Dangerous and sad.

"Alright, Din", he said, as he tried the name out for size.

"Last I remembered, you were so set on getting that kid back, you would of taken on every Imperial remnant left in the galaxy to reunite your little family". 

Migs ignored the sharp intake of breath, his eyes firmly affixed to the ground. He would burn up, if he didn't get it out of his mind and into the open.

"He was so important, you were willing to forsake your entire belief system to save him".

Migs waited for something, anything. When nothing was forthcoming, Migs tried one last time. 

"What happened, Din?".

He waited, as the other pressed his helmet into the crook of his own arm. He seemed to be struggling with something, as a tremble went through his entire body. Migs didn't know what to do, except to be there with him. It wasn't often he found himself doing this, trying to get someone to confide in him. Sure, he picked at people's wounds, when it suited him, but not like this. Not with the intention to patch them up afterwards. 

"When I, when I took the kid", he started, shakely at first, "he was just a bounty."

Migs was surprised by the revelation but didn't let it show on his face. He kept his eyes on the ground, idly tracing shapes as he waited for the other to continue. He knew it might take some time for the story to unfold, and Mando, Din, would probably retreat into himself if Migs interrupted. 

What kind of sick freak placed a bounty on a kid though?

"But I couldn't leave him, and so I took him with me. I had no plans for him, aside of keeping him safe but he was special".

Migs could tell instantly, that it wasn't just the proud boast of a new father. The bounty seemed more sinister as each moment passed. 

"My covert, they tasked me with finding his people and returning him to them. I completed my mission, he's better off now".

In for a credit, in for a flan. 

"With all due respect, that sounds like bullshit". 

He didn't let himself linger on the quiet exhale of air, almost like a laugh, that escaped the other.

"No wonder you get in so much trouble if that's your idea of respect".

Migs ignored the dry comment and leveled the other with a heated glare.

"Who the hell in this galaxy is gonna look after that kid better than his own father?".

If it was anyone besides Mando, that statement might have rung false. Hell, even with Mando it sounded a little saccharine but it was honest. It was obvious from very few interactions that the bounty hunter would do anything for the kid. 

"Like I said, he was special, he-".

"What? He shoots moonbeams out of his hands?".

"Something like that".

He said it quietly, like he didn't intent to be heard. Migs couldn't tell if it was a joke.

* * *

The rest of the night was spent in silence. Not because Migs didn't know what to say, but because he had too much to say. He had practically been vibrating with the need to blurt something out, mind cycling a mile a minute. So instead, he decided to say nothing, until he could moderate his thoughts.

It had been a tense night, to say the least, the words left between them causing a palpable tension.

Thankfully, it didn't seem to have any impact on their chemistry. They made quick work of dispatching the guards, the Mandalorian providing cover as Migs moved in closer. They seemed to be taken completely by surprise, clearly not expecting any retaliation for their recent raids. They had gotten cocky. 

By the time all was said and done, both Migs and Din looked no worse for wear. Migs wanted to say they made a good team. Instead, he settled on asking Din to come visit him once he collected his reward. 

He waved away the others questions. He knew Mando would pay him his share, he didn't have to worry about that. The guy practically screamed honor and self-flagellation.

His old lady, Belinda, she welcomed him back with open arms. She was putting the finishing touch on dinner, when the Mandalorian finally arrived. 

Migs didn't let himself acknowledge the thought that other knew where to find him. It was just another reminder that it was time to move on. He made people unsafe, wherever he went. This kind old woman didn't deserve his kind of trouble. 

She seemed ecstatic to have another guest. Migs got front rows seat to the show, as she over powered the other without much effort. Not that he put up much of a fight. He seemed to falter under her attention, as she dragged him into the kitchen. 

He choked on his drink, when she started talking about how handsome he was. He whipped around to check and was relieved to see the Mandalorian still covered up in his gear. He reminded him of a dog, head tilted in confusion as she hustled and bustled about around him. 

When dinner was ready, she easily accepted his creed, and ushered him into the storage room to eat. Migs was secretly relieved to see him still making the insistence. He could tell the other was lost without the kid, and he would be completely adrift without the protection of his culture. 

It was all the more reason to never speak about what happened on Morak, what circumstance forced him to do. It was probably selfish, but it helped Migs not fixate on it the way he wanted to. 

Belinda insisted Din stay over night, and when he looked to Migs for assistance he found none.

That was how they found themselves bedding down on the floor. 

It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was the best two grown men could do in such a small space. The couch wasn't much better, if Migs was being honest. They wouldn't both fit on it, unless they laid on top of each other. Migs entertained the thought of what a Mandalorian pillow might feel like, probably pointy. 

As if hearing his thoughts, Din shifted beside him. 

Migs rolled out his side to look at him. The other was on his back, the picture of relaxation with his hands clasped over his stomach. It was slightly disturbing, not being able to see if his eyes were open or not. 

Migs allowed a drawn out sigh to escape into the space between them. 

"What, Mayfeld?".

"Migs".

His hands stayed clasped in front of him but his head titled slightly to look at the other, as he assessed him. Migs wondered what he thought, of what he saw, underneath that darkened visor. 

It was the last thing he thought about before he drifted asleep. 

* * *

It would have been another closed chapter in the book that was his crazy life, if only the Mandalorian hadn't gone off script. He had a way of doing that, a way of doing the last thing you expected. 

"Come with me", he said. 

Migs had offered to walk him down to his ship. He had collected what meagre belongings he had that morning, and stuffed them into his rucksack. He knew it was time to go after the Mandalorian was able to hunt him down so easily. He had overstayed his welcome. 

He left his share of the money under one of the couch cushions, along with a note. He didn't say goodbye, was too cowardly to do it. He comforted himself with the thought that he would visit. It wasn't like him but ever since Morak he had decided to turn a new leaf. He didn't want to be a saint, knew he was too bloodied for that, but he wanted to be better, to do better. 

And there was Mando, offering him a chance to do that. He knew if he went with him, he could be proud of the work they did.

It was nearly enough to convince him.

"You don't want me, I'll cramp your style", Migs joked, hefting his bag nervously onto the opposite shoulder. He knew he was practically buzzing with anxiety, always was if he was being honest, like walking a tight rope. He didn't hold out hope that Mando didn't notice, he was too sharp for that. 

"I think we'll manage", Mando replied, in that dry way of his. He didn't give Migs time to come up with an argument, as he turned to board his new ship. 

"What a dick", Migs muttered to himself, as he watched the dramatic way the others cloak fluttered around him as he disappeared from view. 

With one last look around, Migs readjusted his bag and followed him. 

* * *

They settled into what could only be called a routine. It was the most domestic thing Migs had ever been apart of. There was no doubt, it had been awkward at first, as they tiptoed around each other. It took a few close calls, before they finally started to relax.

For the first time in his life, Migs didn't feel the need to try fill the silence with hot air. Din was even picking up the slack. He was no conversationalist, that was sure, but he had graduated from monosyllabic replies. It was a goddamn paradise, if Migs was being honest with himself. 

Din didn't shy away from danger, and he was an amazing partner. He was happy to listen, and even follow orders when Migs was feeling up to it. He wasn't often, felt too familiar, like slipping into his old uniform. Especially with that blank helmet looking at him. 

Migs knew Din would have taken it off weeks ago, if it wasn't for his protests. Anytime he looked like he might, Migs made himself scarce. It was beyond stupid. He just didn't want to have that conversation.

Unfortunately, life had other plans for them. 

It had come as a shock to them both, when Din had become ill. It had come out of nowhere, or at least, Migs thought it had. They had just gotten back from a mission and were planning their next move, when Din tipped over in his seat. 

Migs had panicked, assuming the worst, poison or a wound he hidden, but a quick assessment of his armoured body left him at a lose. It was only when the haze of panic lifted, that he realized that he was cradling the other in his arms. 

Migs released a tirade of curses, as he half dragged and half carried the other to his bunk. His heartbeat was sluggish, when Migs wriggled his fingers under high-necked shirt he wore. It was also abnormally warm. Or at least, it seemed warm. Migs really had no frame of reference, having never touched the other before. 

He steeled himself, before he gently removed the helmet. 

His hair was just as ruffled as the first time, sticking up in several different angles. His facial hair was more unkempt, stubble growing in all along his cheeks and jaw. Eyes Migs knew to be brown were screwed shut in discomfort. 

Migs considered putting the helmet back on, but stopped when Din's hand closed around his wrist. 

"I've been feeling sick since we landed, I didn't want interrupt the mission". 

"For kriff's sake, you're stupider than a Bantha herder", Migs cursed, just barely suppressing the urge to shake some sense into him. He looked pitiful, as he stared up at Migs. 

"If you think I'm gonna play nurse maid, you have another thing coming", Migs said, as he gently disentangled the others hand from his. 

They didn't speak, as Migs helped him divest of the rest of his armor. He knew more than he wanted to admit, weeks watching the others routine when he wasn't looking leading to a certain proficiency. 

He felt himself flush, as the other watched him with a curious look. Migs couldn't help but compare him to the kid. Maybe that was were he got it from. He was nearly as cute, Migs was startled to realize. 

He made sure to leave the helmet close at hand, when he went to get him some medicine. 

They didn't have much on the ship, but Migs did his best to look after the other in the days that followed. He was too weak to move, so he brought him food and helped him into the bathroom when he needed it. He even ended up giving him a sponge bath, one which they both silently pledged to never bring up again. Or at least, Migs did, until he got over the whole experience. 

He was sure it would be good material, once he could bring it without flushing bright red.

The other was wrecked with shivers, and often woke up during the night. Migs had taken to sleeping beside him. The bed was surprisingly big, all things considered, and it allowed him to keep an eye on the other. He didn't really trust Din to look after himself anymore. Not after what had happened. 

He knew once this was all over that they would need to have a serious conversation, he just didn't except Din to be the one to breach it first. 

He was still recovering in bed and was finally able to sit up. Migs had offered him some of his books, but he had quickly blown through his entire selection. Migs had resolved himself to get more the next time they made port, after seeing how much the other enjoyed them.

With nothing else to entertain him, Migs had taken to playing Sabacc.

Din had to have the worst Sabacc face ever. It shouldn't have been so hilarious, considering the reason why it was so bad, but that didn't stop Migs from finding some merit in it. He would chew on the inside of his lip, when he got a particularly bad hand or was trying to remember the rules. When he thought he was going to win, he stopped making eye contact, and his lips would quirk into a smile when he got the cards he wanted. 

Migs wondered if anyone else would notice these ticks as easily as he had, if he wasn't so fixated on cataloguing every bare inch of the others skin. It felt an awful lot like he was taking advantage. 

He had fallen quiet, ruminating on the thought, when Din suddenly spoke. 

"When I lost the kid, I was more alone than I had ever been before".

Migs looked at him in surprise, and laid his cards aside as he listened. 

"With my Covert scattered to the wind, and my mission fulfilled, I had no purpose. I went from mission to mission, trying to go back to the way it was before, but I couldn't do it. I got a taste of what it might be like, to have a family again, one that was just my own and it was so hard to be alone again".

"I'm sorry", Migs replied, heart heavy with remorse. For not the first time, he considered offering to go track down the kid. 

"That's just it, I'm not alone anymore".

Migs felt his heart stop.

"What do you mean?".

"Now I have you", Din said simply, and then he kissed him.

Migs knew he was playing the part of a dead fish, but he was too shocked to do much more than than sit still as Din pressed their lips together. 

It was shy, tamer than the first kiss Migs had shared with his neighbour when he was just ten years old but somehow he felt like a child again, experienced and frightened, as his heart beat a staccato rhythm inside his chest. 

Din seemed to take his silence as rejection, his eyes falling away, as he let his hand hover awkwardly between them. 

Migs quickly reassured him, as he reeled him in for another kiss. This time more heated. 

He felt himself grin, as the other muttered a breathy moan in response.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

**Author's Note:**

> One of these days, I'm going to spend longer than an afternoon on one of these fics but for now I am too impatient!
> 
> Peek me not mentioning the word cantina in here, for once lol. 
> 
> Also, this is a superior ship and that's all I have to say in this matter. 
> 
> Come find me on tumblr under the same name!


End file.
